Second Glance
by Zchocolatebunniesrulezworld
Summary: If time could be turned around; if Sora could have slept while his Other saved the worlds instead...maybe some endings wouldn't have been so tragic. Rewrite of KHII with Axel and Roxas instead of Sora/Donald/Goofy.


**Z has been planning something along these lines for quite a while, now. She plans on working through the plotline of the whole game with these poor guinea pigs of hers. Will she be sprinkling in some yaoi...? With Axel and Roxas, the pairing practically writes itself, no matter how fiercely she attempts to dissuade it, so the answer is probably yes, but she'll be focusing more on the plot. Adieu, pumpkins!**

**_o~o_  
**

Let me tell you a secret that will shock the heart right out of your chest: I—Axel, Number VIII, the Flurry of Dancing Flames, Roxas's former best friend—am an idiot. Shocking, I know, but true. _Something_ had to fill that hole in my chest when I lost my heart, and it looks like stupidity won out.

I've been fixated on the Organization, blindly accepting what they told me about the heart. Why? Because I was desperate. I needed a goal, an agenda, something to distinguish "Axel" from "Lea". So I followed Xemnas's orders, hoping I'd figure out the whole Nobody thing from him.

Again, "idiot" is still the operative word here.

As I slowly started to figure out the truth—Organization XIII is utter bullshit—I pushed it frantically away. Losing the Organization would be like losing myself, you know? It was all I had.

But then I found something, some_one_, else. I know how corny this sounds, but when Roxas joined the Organization, I found something to live for. The boy who barely said a word somehow wormed himself into my chest, and for the first time, "Axel" could delude himself into thinking he could feel happiness.

But it was a slippery slope, I tell you. One minute I feel a fleeting phantom emotion; the next, I have a whole freaking phantom _heart_ in my chest; or so it feels. And that heart hoarded secrets like a rat, concealing one thing after another from the boy who created it.

As Roxas got smarter, he grew more and more lost, more and more afraid. Too many questions and inconsistencies about the Organization; which was, after all, the only life he'd ever known. It was only a matter of time before he'd crack, I knew. So I braced myself, wishing he'd helped me grow a pair, too, and waited for the phantom courage I needed to reveal all the lies we'd fed him

I was too late. Had Roxas waited a week—just a few days, even, for me to shake off these last vestiges of self-doubt, I'd have told him everything. But he got sick of my crappy excuses and careless brush-offs, and up and left. It's not like I blame him, really.

What I _do_ blame him for is letting himself be caught by two little girls—_sorry_, a little girl and a quite androgynous teenage boy. Together, under the guidance of some old crackpot with a curtain around his face, they erased everything that Roxas made himself into. Then Naminé (after all the things I _did_ for her!) replaced him with a brainless, skateboarding teenager. Let me tell you, it _hurts_ to have those gorgeous sky-blue eyes look at me without a scrap of recognition. Maybe it's only a memory of what emotional pain should feel like, but there's also an actual physical pain in my chest. (Never thought I'd miss the complete lack of emotions, phantom or otherwise.)

So where are we now, you might ask? Well, Roxas is on Sunset Hill in his little imaginary town, watching for a "Ghost train" with his little imaginary friends. He's got no idea that this supposed ghost train is actually the only gateway to the real world...and he's got a first-class ticket, Axel-style (which roughly translates to "a rag dipped in chloroform" for those of you who don't know me too well).

Oh, there he is, walking back to the station. Stick around and watch; this should be fun, got it memorized?

-o-

Here's the thing: I just can't bear hurting a boy who looks exactly like my best friend, even if his personality and memories are completely different. When I tried to fight him, all I could think of doing was wrapping him in a huge hug and saying "sorrysorrysorry" a million times. So instead, if I wanted to pull my best friend out of this electronic world, I'd have to use my glorious brain. In other words, I knocked him out and dragged him onto the train.

Now, "Twilight Town" is falling away beneath us and a fantastic path of glittering stars has replaced it. I've got no idea where the train is headed, nor what consequences my actions will have on all the worlds, nor, for that matter, what the hell I'm going to do now.

But none of that matters. All that uncertainty pales in comparison to when I see my best friend open his eyes. He moans and groggily rubs his head (blond spikes leaping back up as soon as he takes away his hand—defiance of the laws of physics, or just a lot of hair gel? I'm not telling.) As soon as he catches sight of me, he leaps to his feet, draws his Keyblade, and shouts, "What the hell, Axel?"

"Wow," I say, grinning. "That's a lot more like the old Roxas I knew. Is he still buried in there somewhere? Maybe getting further away from Naminé's control triggers someth—hey there, now. None of that. I'm doing this for your own good and all you do is attack me? Not polite, man."

He growls. Literally growls. Coming from such a shrimp, it's about as threatening as if he were a cocker spaniel (and twice as cute.) "What do you want?"

"I want my friend back, that's all," I say, shrugging. "It's getting pretty boring without him."

As he finally catches on that I'm not going to attack him, Roxas puts away his Keyblade (where does it _go_? It just dematerializes into thin air? I've always wondered...) and sits down, glare not reducing in the slightest. "I'm sorry, Axel," he begins, "but I can't help you. You're obviously deluded, or just completely insane. _I_ am Roxas, and I've never even seen you before two days ago. The person you think you knew doesn't exi—where the heck are we?"

"Uh, a flying train; nothing out of the ordinary here—Roxas, that's _really_ a bad idea." I grab him and pull him away from the window, which he had been about to shatter with his Keyblade. "I get that you want to leave; go back to your happy little fantasy with your friends; but it's not gonna happen. You have to wake up now, Roxas, or go to sleep forever. Let's say you _can_ go back to your Twilight Town. Imagine. You'll get to stay for maybe a day in your illusion, but then you're finished. Kaput. You'll disappear into Sora, a Nobody's "rightful fate" if you listen to some belt-headed freakazoids. Everything that ever made you _you_ will go into someone else, and you know what? I'm not gonna stand by and let that happen. I'm not losing you again, got it memorized?"

All right, that was a passionate, devoted speech, am I wrong? More than deserving of a dramatic (and platonic) hug, right? But Roxas just cocks an eyebrow and nods skeptically, then continues to try and bash out the window.

"Whoa there, buddy," I say, and reach over to pluck that dangerous key from his hand, holding it tantalizingly just out of his reach. That always pissed him off when we were partners, so I made sure to do it as often as I could.

He growls, just like he used to—then freezes. Hang on, is that a look of recognition on his face? Does he remember me, or have I been driven insane with hope?

He frowns and looks up into my eyes. "Axel...? I think I—" and then whatever it is passes in a flash, and he just glares and says hotly, "give that back!"

I grin to hide my disappointment. "No chance, buddy. Friends don't let each other commit suicide by jumping from a flying space train. Sorry."

Only then do we both notice that the train has landed in a clearing lit by sparkling starlight. I have absolutely no idea where we are or what we do now—this should be fun!

Roxas steps off the train, awed in spite of himself. "Are we in another _world_?" he asks. This Roxas only knows of that fake Twilight Town. Watching him now is just like seeing his itty-bitty baby Nobody self, after he had de-zombified, stepping into another world for the first time. Again, looking at the amazement clearly splattered across his face, I can't help but wonder if he really doesn't have a heart. There are just some things you can't fake.

"Yup," I reply, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to an ostentatious tower exploding out of the grassy clearing. "Let's go meet the natives."

"What are you—hey!" Oh, Roxas, you'll get used to me soon enough. Eventually you'll figure out that if I am seized by a random desire to grab you up and swing you onto my shoulders, I'm going to act on it, goddamnit!

We make our way to the foot of the tower, passing some yokel who's peering around the edge in a very sad attempt at being inconspicuous. (He really will never be able to pull off "sneaky", what with the fact that he's a 6-foot-tall, three-hundred-pound mouse). I decide against knocking, and pull open the tall purple doors, wincing as their unoiled hinges scream in my ears.

"Hello?" Roxas calls, leaning forward on my head to get a better look ("Ow! Axel, it's impossible for hair to get this pointy. What, do you braid wires into it?")

Hmm. Looks like his short attention span is working in my favor. His drive for adventure has completely overwhelmed my memories of any hatred he previously felt towards me. This crackpot half-scheme may actually turn out to do something after all.

"Well, don't just stand there," he says, "let's go!" Accompanied by a sharp knee digging into my side and an annoying teenager on my back, I start to ascend the long winding staircase to Parts Unknown.


End file.
